Anna Torres
Bio
I’m a 39-year old mother and student. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021
Stories (158)
Filter by community
Reprisal
He's feral like a wild animal gone rabid. He's agile like a predator that's taken to flight. He's savage like a lit fuse about to implode. He's primal like a retina that's lost its precious sight. A heathen that's always on reconnoiter. I can't escape for that would destroy the established order. You lead this domestic dance with every step on my hand. A fascist general with a strategy and a plan. I'm on borrowed time that's been given little by little. Grateful for crumbs from a table that's too afraid to meddle. Weakness shown to your master has gone down sharp. I thought I'd be spared but you never miss your mark. You dictate with your fists and your fury. Another day of wrath and another night of misery. A death sentence has been singing in the wind. A headstone in the making for the grave I'm dancing in. A disturbance is a substitute for this heated vendetta. You created this feud all for an elaborate operetta. Acts of sedition are quickly put out by confusion and reason. The rebellion in me has erupted into a pointless treason. Digging my way out like a zombie out of the frozen ground. Compromising my womb like a coffin being lowered without a sound. I've repented from devils and demons and remain unredeemed. I've atoned from blissful incoherence and still give out my apologies. I've mourned the audacity and the frightened nerves I haven't collected yet. The grief balances on a tight rope but marches to a deafening drum set. In the darkness we slumber but I never descend much. Blinding ambition keeps me alive but I am misfortune untouched. Mating in the moonlight with claws and fangs exposed. We don't live with regrets but have plenty of scars to unload. They know fear but I know entrapment and a razor wire fence. Bound to cowardice dressed in a suit that lives to offend. These are the rules that I obey with my body and my tongue. Primal are the instincts and urges he has but sadly, I have none
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
Mad Max: Fury Road is one massive u-turn
Mad Mad: Fury Road is a film that takes us on a trip filled with explosions and spectacles. We go on this journey just to return exactly where we started. There is no story to tell. The lack of direction isn’t enough to satisfy the hunger for a good storyline.
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Critique
Ashes
The walls have become a prison. They rise too tall, they block out the sun. Whatever we lost, we can’t remember. The control is gone, the past is forgotten. They played the odds badly, they surpassed us horribly. They gambled on their beliefs. They bartered and traded their lives away. The toxicity is in our lungs. It has lodged itself into our future. Nocturnal anxiety. These days leave me in a trance. What do we look forward to? Endless mis-colored sky? Never-ending homicide? The good times left us behind. I don’t have the strength to carry on. There is only time for one more song.
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
Fulcrum Grim
The air is conspiring against me. It’s like the drain of the ocean is commandeering me and sucking me down. I’m only treading water instead of swimming to shore. I’m only gasping for breath instead of preventing a heart attack. It’s a cryptic void that’s attempting to swallow me whole. A collection of drifting embers that is floating to nowhere. I hope for rescue or relief from laborious peril. What lured me out in the first place? I panic internally to keep from surrendering. The tides are unforgiving but so am I. I am isolated from despair and captive to the undertow. All I see are sea apparitions but there’s no where to go. I see phantom ships but they are just worthless vessels. I’m losing the grip on my rope and my precious sanity. I rather sink into the sky instead of absconding into the earth. A Fata Morgana attacks my senses that are already dull. I wish this mirage was an oasis but it’s just a tease. A mimic Atlantis exists just beneath the waves. Circular motion interrupts my vertigo. Lucid fluidity forever interjects between failure and apathy. Where can you flee when all exits are closed? Every direction is the exact same. GPS coordinates hold no sway over corrupted reality. If I let go, I can finally reach this blessed nirvana I so crave. Tranquil meditations will help sever all ties. A choice to whether approach the monsoon or forfeit my longevity. Oxygen has become my enemy. This Plutonian chasm drags me under with its tentacles. I am enlightened from this abysmal purgatory. I have finally reached the horizon. I have finally reached the shore I have sought for so long. I am delivered from this heaving abyss and its holy pit and am now one with the earth
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Blood Haiku
Captive bodies left in your wake. Captured souls forever walk the plank. I’ve burned these bridges just to watch you die. It’s a shame to waste the light without a proper goodbye. Your belated bones smear your atrocity all over the walls. A blood haiku written before your eventual downfall. Have you seen all there is to see? Have you become the very demon you always hoped to be? Polished entrails erupt out of your cocoon. I set up the trap and hope you arrive soon. You chose your mayhem and I’ve chosen bliss. There’s no return from this awful wickedness. A fortunate devil in the making. A neurotic world is yours for the taking. I’m unaware of what truly lies beneath the surface. Your masks falls to the floor amidst your chaotic mess. Behold! A current flowing towards devastation. Your undoing is the dam that will come down with adulation. You don’t get to live out your life in makeshift peace. Secrets will spill out and resurface from the deep. You’re not allowed to move on in perfect harmony. Crimes must be punished with the utmost severity. Graves will be dug in hopes your limbs lie still. I’ll give you a head start until it’s time to kill. Rudimentary and rotten to the core. You’ll never outrun the pain you’ll be remembered for. A dictator ruling over a fallen reich. A Rasputin trying to flee out into the unruly night. Twisted fate will come hunting for you. To sniff you out and take your job from you. What is left of you that is human and remarkable? Undamaged pasts are not always incorruptible. You have come to do the devil’s work and work you shall. All your sufferers couldn’t see past your deluded rationale. Your empire topples with a shudder and a whimper. A timeline of sacrifices made at the altar of sinners. Have you said farewell to all you chose to be? Have you said goodbye to the death machine you came to be? A war played out on the stage with victims and perpetrators. History never remembers the invaded, only the invaders.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Permafrost
Lies from the throne of a usurper. Incompetence forged by victory. A fragile alliance made to satisfy the blood lust of a crooked madman. They use shards of past treacheries to penetrate a frozen crown. Like viper teeth sinking in deeper to wound us fatally. He offers reprieve but his crimes still stand. I have my conscience but he has his legacy to attend to. Making enemies and ascending even higher. Retreat with your back still intact. Regrets are always reserved for the past. We wanted peace but he wanted victory. No kingdom he couldn’t control, no country he wouldn’t make his own. A succession that enters the history books. Warfare ravaged the land but he wanted more. The rebellion rages on but he wouldn’t hear of it. His invasion must be stopped but no one will volunteer. I will cut him down even if it fails. Dynasties rise but yours is set for detonation. A campaign of adversaries and false treaties. The royals speak in hushed tones with innocent words. They don’t know the entire regime has gone absurd. Misplaced trust and united nobles. He won’t meet his end on the battlefield but from within his own inner circle. Betrayal comes at a stiff price. I summon my courage and aim straight for the eyes. An army set up for relief in peace. I alleviate our worries with a new sword bathed in victory
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Pain Remains
Shadows fall, pain remains. Darkness lies, we’ve gone insane. This internal war isn’t fought with bloodshed. Its mastermind is all I’ve never said. I try to extract the truth but only pain remains. Is starting over again an option? I’ve seen enough to want to try again. Banish these evil thoughts, kill them all. Exhume and erase me, I can’t go on. Collapsed thoughts pushing me into the ether. I’ve looked for signs of an arrival sent from the skies. But no saint or hero will deliver me unto myself. I challenge the power you have over me. A spectacle in shackles with no right to grieve. The splinters of me lay splattered on the floor. Broken spirits are all that’s left behind. The ground is neutral but it’s me I can’t seem to find. I close my eyes and let myself unravel. Unwind into the unbecoming. Bending radical laws into self-soothing techniques. Restoring that which is minimal. Reconstructing that which is gone. The other versions of me prevail. They aren’t withered down by weather and time. I pirouette constantly and continue to rotate without purpose. I’ve live to die just to die everyday. Dead inside, there is nothing left to mourn. If I could extract the truth, I would but only pain remains. Why wake just to watch the rise and fall of everyday? I let the fickleness of monstrous deities liquify me. I allow the weight of the sky to simply fall down on me. The shadows create their own storylines while I follow the same outcome. The indecisiveness of left versus right. The lack of conviction between day and night. Resistance has become surrender, crushing the singularity I am under. Doomed reality giving birth to an apathetic future. This timeline is useless. Riddled with pain and stricken by vanity. It will all come to dust, one way or another. They’re out there somewhere, the other variants of me trying their best. It’s a world where I simply could care less. I’ve tried to extract myself but only pain remains
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Byzantium
Conversion, evolution. A cycle of primeval going down the drain. A primordial abduction with everything to lose, nothing to gain. A poison on the tongue with venom piercing through every open vein. I’ve witnessed the world going down in ruins and it’s driven me insane.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Fathers are overrated
I am the product of a once angry man. I am 36 years old and still harbor a grudge over my father’s frustration at life. If I could sum up him up in one word it would be: provocable. It didn’t take a lot to stir up his fragile emotions and get him riled up enough to yell at me and my 4 sisters. Including my mother, there were 6 women against 1 man where the man dictated everything.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Men
Tsarina
We didn’t use typical code names from Resevoir Dogs like I assumed we would. This isn’t my first bank heist but it’s theirs. They wanted to do it on a Friday but I knew better. You do it when they least expect you to: we pulled the job on a Monday. They used titles like King, Duke, Caesar, and Emperor. I was the only girl so they called me the lamest name I could imagine. They decided on the disguises and the getaway plan. They chose the weapons and the inside man. I took it one step further and made sure that man was my brother. They would have no idea they were played until the end. If they ever get out of prison and pull off another scheme, they would know not to assume stereotypes. I was the female who had no input on anything. So they made me the getaway driver. I made sure to wear my sparkling crown when they realized how screwed they would be. I wanted to be there when their lives flash before their eyes but my brother said it best: a Tsarina has to keep her hands clean. They will remember my name.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Fiction
